


crossing a line

by Alethia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Afghanistan, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Porn Battle, Post-Canon, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate wondered what he thought he was doing, pushing this. Pushing anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crossing a line

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, _Generation Kill_ , as written by Ed Burns and David Simon and as portrayed by Alexander Skarsgard, Stark Sands, and others. It is a work of fiction, ergo it never happened.
> 
> Written for Porn Battle XII and originally posted here. Prompt was "reunion." Also posted over on [LJ](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/514390.html).

"I know that laugh."

A sea of uniforms parted, revealing Brad, pack slung across his back like he had somewhere to go. His raised eyebrow said, _you're not supposed to be here_. The mockery in the quirk of his lips was directed inward, like _of course_.

Nate could read that, but he didn't get the context of it, so he shoved it aside to consider some other time. 

"Give me a minute, James. I'll be right back."

"Good deal," James replied, but Nate was already moving. Toward Brad.

Inexorably, it seemed. 

Brad waited for him, smile turning welcoming. He held out a hand. 

Nate took it, pulled him into a hug. They hadn't done that; Nate could feel it in the stiffness of Brad's frame. 

But it was only the briefest of pauses before Brad relented and leaned in, pounded Nate on the back as was only manly and proper. 

Nate was pathetically grateful for that concession. He pulled away with a grin. "It's good to see you."

"Imagine my surprise to hear _you_ in a place like this."

"My laugh is endearing; all the girls say so."

"I won't argue with all the pussy you're getting." Nate frowned at that; Brad kept talking. "But if you were going to abandon us only to return to a war zone, you could've at least done the respectable thing and picked up a fat contracting paycheck like Poke and Walt."

Nate felt his smile tighten. "I'm here teaching COIN."

"Of course you are."

Nate ignored the subtle mockery in that, as well. "You?"

Brad simply looked at him for a beat. 

Oh, right. "Not that you can tell me. Because even if I feel like I'm in the Corps—surrounded by all these fucking boots—I'm still the civilian." The word tasted strange, at least when referencing himself, but he was assured it was accurate; he had a black-and-white document that said so and everything. 

Brad's expression was edging toward concerned. 

Nate shoved away the mess roiling in his head and focused on Brad. "Got time for a cup of crappy coffee with your former platoon commander?"

"I could do that."

***

Nate wasn't entirely clear where he'd lost control of this situation. They'd had coffee, they'd had dinner, they'd had an awkward, stilted walk back to Nate's civilian quarters. 

Then Brad had Nate against the door _inside_ his quarters and Nate really couldn't connect A to B to C to _this_. 

Probably because Brad was doing his level best to fuck Nate insensate while still wearing all their clothes. Which was not terribly conducive to coherent thought. 

But it shouldn't have gotten this far. Catching up was one thing. Rubbing up against his former NCO was something else. Nate was supposed to be the responsible one...or responsible enough _not_ to jump Brad at the first opportunity, no matter how many times he might've fantasized about it. 

Fantasies weren't supposed to become reality. That was crossing the line.

"Stop thinking," Brad said into his mouth, rolling his hips with a little too much force. 

"Can't. Would _really_ be useless if I could," Nate panted out, grinding his cock into Brad's hip. He started in on Brad's uniform. Skin would be good. 

Brad's movements slowed fractionally, then picked up again, so fast he could've missed it. Brad defeated the button on Nate's pants in record time and had them shoved out of the way soon after. He helped with his own and then there _was_ skin, Nate making a particularly throaty noise into Brad's mouth at the feel of it. 

It'd been a while. 

For Brad, too, it seemed, with the way he pinned Nate in place, one hand on his shoulder and one on his hip, just this side of too hard, sweat and pre-come leaking freely as they thrust against each other. There'd be bruises tomorrow. Hell, there might be friction burn, but Nate was beyond caring. Brad's cock was smearing a mess across Nate's skin, his mouth was sucking a hickey into his collarbone and grunting out complimentary curses, besides. 

He'd take it all and be glad for the memory when Brad was gone. 

Brad's rhythm stuttered and Nate gripped him, urging him on with filthy, breathy words until Brad kissed him again. He sucked on Nate's tongue, moaned something wrecked and painful, and then he _shook_ as warmth spread between them. 

It added that crucial bit of slickness to Nate's thrusts. Two more and he came hard, unexpectedly, fingers digging into Brad's shoulders as heat shuddered through him. The blissed white-out was far too intense for this bullshit kid stuff, but all the same Nate found himself panting afterwards, relaxing his toes from their clench, blinking his shaky vision back to something normal. 

Brad actually looked rattled, watching Nate with a blank expression that said he truly didn't know what that was. 

At least they were in agreement there. 

Nate slumped back against the door and just breathed. Brad didn't seem inclined to move away. "When should I expect the search party?" Nate asked after a few silent moments. 

Brad shook his head, once. "Already took care of it. This is just a pit-stop on my way to catch up. Real ride leaves in the morning."

"I have a bed," Nate offered, wondering what the fuck he thought he was doing, pushing this. Pushing anything. 

Brad looked at him blankly for a moment. He glanced down and made some kind of dismissive noise. "I'm all covered in dust and shit. Wouldn't want to give you sand flies."

Nate firmed his voice, put it all out there: "Then you'll just have to get naked before you get in."

Brad looked up, evaluating, _something_ stirring behind the mask. "I could do that."

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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